Today was a pivotal day for the three of us partners who are working to develop various services within the field of regenerative medicine. We are not physicians. We are behavioral health specialists with strong opinions about what individuals and families need. A strong ethic is required in this area of bioethics. Look for a summary of our manuscript on these pages when it is nearing completion. I was drawn to this effort out of a sense of justice. On more than one occasion I have said, "Unless things change, only rich white people will be able to write a check for these treatments," and one response is "anyone who is rich." That person is correct. My desire is for all of God's children to have stem cell treatment options. From what I have read thus far, there is a low percentage of persons of color in clinical trials and databases around the world.
Here is a poem that I originally posted here back in March. Once more, please check out these sentiments. As always, please feel free to leave your comments below..
Ode to Stem Cells
Pain is what I feel
From my head down to my toes
Everywhere I move
And nobody really knows.
This back is old
Some days are worse than others
I feel it sometimes really bad
Sometimes I feel the shudders.
This pain down in my knees
I know I’m growing old
It’s worse some days than others
Especially when I’m cold.
Sometimes I can’t even feel
My toes nor even my fingers
So, I just sit and wait and wait
And the days turn into lingers.
The medicine I take
Only relieves me some
For a better day I’m longing
Before my time on earth is done.
Those pains no one really gets
No one can really see
The hurt my body feels
From my shoulders to my knee.
Sometimes I cannot breathe
Much more than just a gasp
These lungs are wearing out
Some day will be my last.
These eyes they cannot see
I used to could find my way
Now I fumble all about
Hardly sensing the light of day.
I hear there a new science
Going on in labs around the globe
If I only had the money
Perhaps I’d have more hope.
People like me want to see
People like me want to breathe
People like me have some hope
From our heads down to our knees.
They have many fancy names
Pluripotent mysenchymal stem cells
Snagged by patented devices
From my human body where they all dwell.
Gives people a lot of hope
Do you know some of them
Let’s pass the word and pray the prayers
And look for that little stem.
God’s grace is found
Upon all of us in sight
Let’s keep on doing good medicine
You know it’s really right.
Let’s make sure all of these treatments
Can make for a better story
For black and brown rich and poor
For God to receive the glory.
